Standing In The Outfield
by always-been-a-pirate
Summary: A two part fic about baseball, the friend zone, and what happens when your unresolved feelings bring you home after five years away. Inspired by the song 'The Outfield' by The Night Game.
1. Chapter 1

**Part one of this little ficlet that just wouldn't leave me alone! I highly recommend you listen to the song that inspired it :) it's listed in the description! Enjoy!**

* * *

To this day, Killian still couldn't exactly figure out how they'd ended up in such a comfortable yet confusing relationship. Ugh, he _hated_ that term - relationship. Well, it was Emma who _really_ loathed that word. He'd just come to share the opinion because…. _well,_ because he liked sharing things with her.

Many things. Okay, _all_ things.

Sharing was perhaps a vague way to put it though. She rarely asked for much and he'd always been all too willing to give her everything he could - several answers to the dozens of tests Mr. Gold administered in their junior high algebra class, the black windbreaker he tossed over the fence to her when she came to every single one of his baseball games, and even some really crappy dating advice when it came to who she should go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with. He _should_ have asked her to be his date before the lead pitcher of the varsity team managed to, but he didn't - and therefore, he'd had to support her choice to accompany Storybrooke High's most eligibly overrated idiot to the decorated gym he was now sure as _hell_ going to avoid come Friday night.

It wasn't like he wanted to go anyway. With the first round of the playoff tournament scheduled for the following Monday, the batting cages were probably a much better place for him to be. After all, it wasn't like Neal Cassidy was going to be throwing consistent strikes if he was out all weekend trying to score with the girl Killian had dropped the ball with for years now.

Sure, he loved America's favorite pastime, but as thoughts of figurative "bases" crossed his mind, Killian realized how much he truly hated sports analogies.

It had been tough to encourage Emma to accept Neal's invitation, but he was fully convinced that karma was paying him back in good faith when she still ended up on his doorstep after the formal. He'd been surprised to see her standing there in her post date glory, her pale pink dress clinging to her figure and her tangled blonde hair loose against her shoulders. With her lightly colored high heels hanging from her fingers, she'd asked if she could come in - and once again, he couldn't deny her - not that he actually wanted to.

Their pattern of give and take with no protest picked right up as she changed into a pair of his sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt she plucked from his dresser drawer. He'd tried not to smile at how tiny she looked in the baggy clothing, using the distraction of making hot cocoa and trying not to read the 'SB Sluggers Club' title that stretched across the front of the shirt too many times.

He hadn't ever struggled _quite_ this much when it came to staring at her as she scanned his limited movie collection. Her fingers skimmed the titles lightly, tracing the letters as she contemplated her options. He wasn't sure what had brought her to his humble home's living room after a night out with that Cassidy git, but he liked the outcome - the fact that she'd seemed to end up there with him so automatically.

"It's amusing that you're pretending to think this through, love," he grinned as handed her a mug and flopped onto the couch. "I'm pretty certain that any other film beyond your usual choice would be…. _inconceivable_."

She smiled big at his fast conclusion, plucking the movie case from the shelf and tossing it to his lap. Taking her seat at his side seemed rather easy and he allowed himself to relish the way her leg bumped against his when she tugged a light quilt over her body.

"I know you don't like it as much as I do," she acknowledged as she snuggled beneath the blanket. "You can turn it off when I fall asleep."

He rose quickly and cued up the old movie player before glancing back with a dramatic eye roll. Killian admitted silently how much he loved her little retorts and facial expressions as he pressed play. Yes, refusing her requests was an ability he'd lost years ago….or maybe he never had such a skill in the first place.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he shook his head, moving back to the sofa and enjoying the way she leaned into him. "Staying here then, love?"

"Maybe," she mumbled with a yawn, his arm tucked around her. "Probably."

He'd never been quite so quick to accept such perplexing circumstances - well, at least not up until then. It would be a lie to say he ever thought twice about it after that.

He should have kissed her though - and lord knows he thought about the fact that he hadn't _many_ times after that night.

* * *

Though he wasn't certain how they'd grown quite so close, the roots of their friendship were simple and perhaps even a bit fated. Emma lived only a few streets away and the sunny days of their childhood had brought her to the baseball field that sat on the block between their two homes. He was one of the youngest players on the club team and still very much a bench warmer when he'd first noticed her climbing the bleachers. It took him less than two innings to determine who she was - the younger sister of David Nolan, the three time captain of their rather talented group of athletes.

The fact that he'd ended up being such good pals with the popular leader of their team was something that still perplexed Killian, even now that David was competing at a junior college level a few hours away from their small hometown. The timing of their friendship had evolved when Killian most needed it - a mere two lonely months after his own older brother had passed tragically in a military accident. David had taken him beneath his wing quickly and with the man's consistent will to keep an eye out for his younger teammate, Killian soon found that he almost fit in perfectly with the Nolan family.

They spent loads of time together - summer days at a nearby lake, study sessions with friends and dozens of snacks, and even an occasional holiday gathering or two. Killian's own father was often working late nights or drowning in rum fueled misery which made accepting an invitation to a pick-up game in the park or the Nolan family's annual Fourth of July celebration an easy thing to do. He was beyond grateful that David had taken a liking to him and even more so when Emma seemed to as well.

It didn't take him long to like her just as much - well, maybe even a _little_ more.

By the time David graduated, Emma had instantly stepped up to fill the role of Killian's best friend. If they weren't playing catch and quizzing each other on SAT prep, they were making late night movie plans and debating the proper amount of salt needed on some freshly popped popcorn. He made sure she always had a ride to school in the morning while Emma made sure he knew how to get the grass stains out of his uniform pants. She was always there for him whether he needed a pep talk after a tough game or a high five over the fence after he closed out a tough inning. Killian had never imagined he'd ever meet someone who understood him the way she always seemed to.

There was something about Emma and the way she made him feel - something wild and exciting that he couldn't totally explain. She made him feel hopeful - like maybe he could be something _more_ than just Killian Jones, the relief pitcher for the Storybrooke Knights. He sure as hell wouldn't ever be meant for shining armor or hero status, but Emma almost made him believe in happily ever after - maybe a new beginning that even somehow included her. Well, _maybe_ if he could ever work up the courage to suggest it.

He didn't though. Instead, April turned to May slowly, the green grass of the baseball diamond and a need to keep his curveball sharp about the only things keeping Killian from spending every second with her. Emma never told him about the dance or the date she'd apparently ended earlier than expected, not even the one time he'd worked up the courage to ask.

He was kind of grateful for that - he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

Their senior year floated by in some sort of odd dream that Killian allowed himself to get used to - probably one of his more naive mistakes - and when she'd show up to his typically lonely house to indulge in a poor romantic comedy from the eighties or when she'd swing by the field to walk home with him after practice, he tried to convince himself that getting comfortable was a bad idea. It was a near impossible task when she observed him with those deep green eyes and a clever smirk. It was _completely_ impossible when she fell asleep against his shoulder or took the leap of being candid with him about some little detail of her life.

He'd wanted to tell her how he really felt for ages by the time she mentioned another date with Neal. Everyone deserves a second chance - that's what she'd prefaced _that_ conversation with. Then once she'd rescheduled their movie night again, Killian couldn't help the speculation that perhaps the third time really was a charm where Neal Cassidy was concerned. It only took one solitary and very repeated viewing of _The Princess Bride_ to realize how much he loathed that number.

He knew he owed her his honesty, but giving in - maybe even telling her the _whole_ truth about what she meant to him - wasn't a fear he ever dared face. It was cowardice in its worst form and Killian wondered why he was so afraid each time they ended up in one another's company on the porch swing to the side of his front door.

They were in that exact setting the night before the semifinal game when it all came to a head and he realized that his failure to put himself out there had led to an awful conclusion. Emma was his teammate's new girlfriend - yes, _that_ teammate - and that meant his own position was now extremely obvious.

Killian Jones had somehow become trapped in the friend zone - and lord knows, he had absolutely _no_ one to blame but himself.

* * *

"Bloody hell, _mate_ ," Robin grimaced, tugging his glove off and shaking his catching hand with a wince. "Save it for the mound."

Killian let out a deep exhale as he ignored the warning of the first baseman. Lifting his forearm, he wiped the light sweat from his brow before adjusting his cap. The blue brim felt firm between his fingers as he tugged it down over his stare just a bit. Emma had told him once that his uniform hat matched his eyes and he wasn't sure if he'd ever forget the way her mouth had curved at the corner when she'd said that. He peeked over toward the packed stands briefly as he reminisced that moment and immediately found himself grateful for the barrier the baseball cap was providing from the view that had him fuming.

"A few more, Jones," Robin nodded, crouching down with his mitt as he noticed what had Killian distracted. "I wouldn't be surprised to see you get called up tonight, especially if Cassidy doesn't get his head in the game."

He huffed at that, trying to ignore the comment as he wound up and threw a fastball right down the middle into Robin's glove. The loud smack of the rubber and cowhide against the inside of a leather mitt was a decent diversion, but it didn't totally keep his mind from wondering just what Neal was flirtatiously saying to the beautiful blonde standing just behind the fence.

Killian wasn't actually sure that the pair were an _official_ item, but they'd certainly been spending a fair amount of time together for the past couple of weeks. He'd seen less of her, something he noticed rather quickly - especially on the nights they usually spent with a well known film or immersed in endless conversation. Killian supposed he missed her and as he peeked over to where she was chatting with the captain of their officially undefeated team, he admitted silently that he was getting awfully tired of it.

She looked beautiful all clad in casual jeans and a t-shirt with the name of the school he'd played for since their freshmen year. It was a familiar outfit she'd once completed with his jacket, the borrowed article of clothing drowning her in a wealth of black fabric. She looked almost incomplete without it and he tried to ignore how much he wanted to dig the old windbreaker out of his duffel bag. Maybe she didn't need it anymore. Maybe things were different now - and lord, _that_ thought hurt.

"Looks like we better go," Robin said with his head tilted toward the dugout. "Ready, Jones?"

"Aye," Killian answered with a start toward the cement enclosure, knowing full well that his initial position on the field would be right between second and third while Neal lined up on the pitcher's mound. "Let's go."

He looked at her one more time as he jogged toward the bench, his feet snagging slightly on the grass when her gaze drifted to his. He could almost swear he saw it then - how much she'd missed him and their curious friendship - and he entertained the idea of telling her he felt the same way she seemed to.

Maybe he would. Maybe someday he'd be _that_ brave. Maybe eventually he would _finally_ spill his feelings to the girl watching him from a distance...or maybe he'd always stay in that same place - standing quietly in the outfield, sometimes literally and almost _always_ figuratively.

* * *

They'd lost the game - not that the defeat was the hardest part of that evening. No, _that_ honor belonged to the moment when he'd looked up to catch her reassuring gaze while walking toward the dugout and saw only a glimpse of her long hair blowing in the breeze as she jumped down from the bleachers to meet her boyfriend. The sight made his heart sink as his cleats grew heavy and he tried to settle with the knowledge that this was just how it was going to be now - she wasn't his. They were just friends.

Killian spent the rest of their last year of high school realizing how difficult it was going to be to accept that - but after three years in the minor leagues, two hundred miles of distance, and five years apart, he decided that _maybe_ letting go of the golden haired girl from his small hometown was truly outside of his talent range.

But she was happy from what he could tell - and that was all that mattered, even if such a conclusion broke him into pieces.

He wasn't sure why he'd decided to take the coaching job at Storybrooke High when it opened up. The longtime patriarch and leader of the team, Marco Wood, had finally stepped down to pursue a well deserved retirement and when that announcement had caught his eye in the Daily Mirror - which he still subscribed to despite the fact that he now lived in New York - Killian had found himself with an odd desire to consider it. The sudden idea of returning to Maine was almost surreal. He hadn't crossed that town line in years and he'd certainly done his best to leave that life behind, but it was almost like a sign - and it wasn't like he had anything going for him since he'd opted to throw in the towel on his baseball career.

It wasn't much of a career anyway - several seasons of riding the pine and concrete in the minor league dugout for the New York Pirates, a relatively unknown team that rarely led anyone to the majors. Sure, the opportunity had allowed him to remain close to the game he had always loved, but it had pulled him away from the girl he probably could have loved if given the chance.

He'd likely never forget the night he'd told her he was leaving. The few tears she had shed and the image of her forced supportive smile didn't make up a fond memory.

He had managed to pick up a job for a local athletic magazine in the off season, his need to stay busy prodding him into being okay with reporting game scores and stats for sports he didn't know extremely well. The work was easy enough, but giving two weeks notice and moving out of his apartment one weekend in late February was even easier. It was probably all a bit impulsive - how he'd jumped at a chance to move back with very little prodding, especially when he had left Storybrooke in a very similar way only half a decade earlier. He couldn't help the way it just felt right and as he loaded up his car with a few sparse boxes and his old memories of home, he decided not to fight it.

It was a task that turned out to be rather easy once he settled into his new role back on that familiar field, fresh chalk lines and intricately moved grass a welcome view. The school's new principal - another town native named Archibald Hopper - was thrilled to have him there and made it known by updating the team's uniforms and equipment before the first practice took place in March. He'd even offered Killian an office….well, the small room attached to one of the abandoned locker rooms in the old wing of Storybrooke High. It was a quiet space and Killian found out instantly how much he valued that while he organized his things on the built in shelves and the old desk that rested near the single window.

There wasn't much to display - his few team photos from over the years, several small trophies, and a couple of baseballs signed by players he'd idolized as a younger man. He was sorting through his box of collected cards when his fingers fumbled over an old picture, one he'd almost forgotten about until that nostalgic moment.

It was her - well, _them,_ and the faded film provoked an elated memory of the first summer tournament win he'd been a part of. The image made him chuckle softly - and not just because David had managed to sneak into the picture by jumping up behind them. Killian himself had been a sweaty mess when the candid shot had been snapped, his buttoned jersey half untucked while covered in dirt and grass stains. Emma looked brilliant, of course, with her hair woven into a loose braid but covered partially by a beat up baseball cap. She had one arm flung around his neck while her other hand held up a finger claiming they were number one. He remembered how he'd sure felt like it in that instance as she pulled him close, not caring that he was downright filthy after playing his heart out. He'd pitched two perfect innings and brought in a few runs with his triple in the eighth, but neither of those stats were the ultimate win of his evening.

No, that highlight had been the way she'd cheered him on all night and the way her face lit up when he'd winked at her while crossing home plate. Seeing her so proud and happy meant more to him than any victory.

He quickly dug an old empty frame out of the box he'd plopped down near his feet. Sliding the photograph behind the thin glass, he took one more glance at it before stationing it carefully on the second shelf with a sigh. It seemed like the proper place for the past to sit and remind him - or perhaps even haunt him. He wasn't sure which was preferable.

"Nice picture," a soft voice offered from the doorway. "I haven't seen that one for a long time."

Killian froze briefly, the air leaving his lungs in a surprised gasp as he worked up the courage to turn and face the words he hadn't expected to hear. He _knew_ that voice though - even if he hadn't heard it for a number of years. It was the same one that played as the soundtrack of his childhood and the one he'd thought about more than he could ever admit. It was the one he had let slip away, but ultimately, it was the voice that had truly called him back here anyway. With his heart pounding in his tight chest, he spun slowly to meet the owner of the smooth tone and those gorgeous green eyes.

"Emma," he breathed, wondering if he sounded half as wrecked as he felt. "Hi."


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, here's part two...I've decided to do a third part that will basically be a smutty outtake so stay tuned for that! Enjoy! :)**

* * *

"Emma….hi."

It was almost like the world stopped spinning as Killian braced himself in the swiveling desk chair. He silently willed his legs or mouth to move, but both were definitely far too difficult with the way she was standing so nonchalantly in the small office's doorway. He'd allowed himself to dream of this moment once or twice since they exchanged conflicted goodbyes all those years ago, but his imagination had clearly fallen short.

Seeing Emma again wasn't something he could have _ever_ prepared for - and his wide eyes and timid smile gave him away in an instant. Then again, maybe she'd always noticed how he looked at her. It's not like _that_ had changed in the time they spent apart.

"Hey, I….didn't mean to interrupt, but I heard you were back," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I guess I had to see for myself."

She hadn't changed much since they'd last seen each other, but Killian allowed himself to take in the beautiful details that made up this woman like it was the first time. Her hair was slightly shorter, but still hung in loose waves over her shoulders. She was dressed a bit beyond casual - jeans that were more tailored than the ones she used to wear and a detailed white top paired with a gray jacket - which made him feel a bit self conscious about his worn out denim and zip up hoodie. Her suede flat shoes certainly rivaled his laced up Nikes and he wondered briefly just what was causing her to dress so differently these days.

 _People change_ , he silently reminded himself - and while the idea tugged at his heartstrings, he couldn't help how he felt so elated to see her. He hoped desperately that she felt that way too, but the anxiousness written all over her face was definitely giving him pause.

"Aye," he nodded, standing slowly and rocking on his heels a bit. "Haven't been here long yet. I'd planned on seeing if you were still…. _well_ , once I got settled."

He didn't finish his reply, not knowing exactly how to admit that she'd been on his mind since he landed back in town. He'd kept in touch enough with David to know that Emma had never left Storybrooke, but he'd never dared inquire why. He had always believed she was destined for big things and it made him a little sad to hear that she'd never opted to explore life beyond small town Maine.

"Good," she answered, her smile a bit bolder. "I mean it's _good_ to see you."

He smirked at that, her words sinking in and shoving him right back into a world where all he wanted was to see her happy. He'd never stopped wanting that for her, even when he had partially convinced himself that she didn't need him to be part of it anymore.

Yes, it was only a _partial_ belief….because on some level, a life where they were little more than a memory to each other would never make total sense to him.

"And you as well," he agreed softly. "I wasn't sure….I, _uh_ , didn't know if-"

"If I'd want to see you?"

He nodded, shoving his hands nervously into his pockets. It wasn't a lie - he _had_ wondered just what this reunion might ultimately be like. Did she actually _want_ to run into him again? Could they pick up where they'd left off?

"Well, I can't say I expected that I'd have to track you down in the haunted part of the high school," Emma replied, moving a bit further into the room. "But you aren't the _worst_ sight for sore eyes."

Her eyes watered a bit as he breathed a sigh of relief, his lips parting without words. There was so much he knew he should say in that moment - so many explanations that she deserved to hear and so many things he wanted to tell her. He was in the middle of summoning any courage he could and trying to decide where to begin when his efforts were halted by her knee-weakening smile. He couldn't help the way his arms moved, widening as she rushed into them. Her embrace was tight around his neck and he hugged her fiercely as everything seemed to right itself. He could have stood there for hours, holding her close and breathing in her presence without a care in the world - if only the world would have allowed.

"Oh….sorry to barge in," Principal Hopper said from the doorway, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Just wanted to make sure you're all set here, Killian."

Watching a slight blush color Emma's cheeks as she pulled back and avoided his new boss's eyes, Killian felt his heart turn a quick somersault in his chest. He wasn't sure what the reaction meant at first, his old insecurities regarding the woman standing before him sneaking back in. As she bit her lip fast and rolled her eyes the tiniest bit, Killian peered toward the school's principal with realization. They obviously knew one another - and he wondered how as he nodded.

"I think so," he answered with a kind smile. "That team meeting is tonight, right?"

"Six o'clock sharp," the man reminded him with an entertained tilt of his head. "The turnout should be great. Lots of parents and players are excited to hear what you've got planned for the season. I take it you'll be there to take notes for the Mirror as well, Emma."

"Uh, yep," she replied quickly. "Planning on it."

Principal Hopper offered them both a grateful expression before departing and Killian couldn't contain the sheer amusement in his gaze as his sight turned back to her. He felt a semblance of their old banter tingling on his tongue as she gave him a warning stare.

"So _that's_ what you've been up to-"

"It's a new thing," she mumbled with a sigh. "Unexpected but….not the worst job. Just temporary though. I don't plan on making a career out of writing about who wins every Friday night high school football game."

He didn't dare tell her that he still received the regular copies of their hometown paper or that he'd actually caught a glimpse of her first article. He didn't tell her that he knew she'd be as phenomenal at this as she was at everything else, even though she definitely deserved to hear that.

There were a lot of things Killian knew he should have said over the years to the green eyed girl currently giving him a humored smirk, but as his thoughts began to straighten out, he realized in there was really only one thing he wanted to say.

"So I have a few hours before I need to get stuff set up for tonight," he started slowly, scratching behind his ear. "Do you maybe want to…."

"Yeah….I'll call-" Emma cut in, digging her phone out of her pocket and batting her eyelashes teasingly. "-but _you're_ paying, Jones."

Killian bit back a laugh as he listened to her rattle off their typical Granny's Diner takeout order via phone. It had been years since they'd done this, but as he looked at her across the desk, he _almost_ believed nothing had changed at all.

* * *

It didn't take long for him to realize that one thing _definitely_ hadn't changed - he was still a heartsick fool when it came to Emma Nolan.

If he was being totally truthful, he'd known it the moment he finally laid eyes on her again. All it had taken was a glimpse of that long blonde hair and those bold green eyes for him to fall right back into the same mindset he'd held tight to all those years ago - the one where she utterly captivated him in more ways than he could ever explain.

It wasn't wise to stroll right back down the narrow path of being her friend - especially when he'd likely always want more - but he couldn't resist. The simple lunch and catch up conversation they'd set out to have that afternoon quickly evolved into hours of sharing stories and reliving the past. Emma's laugh still sounded the same and the way it made his heart pound was the only thing distracting him from watching her wandering fingers as they snatched a few fries from his plate - not that he _truly_ minded.

After all, it wasn't the first time.

It was almost strange the way they landed right back in that specific sort of togetherness that was so characteristic of them. It was that same comfortable yet nerve bending relationship - the kind where he was elbowing her teasingly one moment and studying the smooth appearance of her lips the next. It wasn't just friendship. There was something more.

There had _always_ been something more - well, at least for him - and he was trying desperately to table that idea the following night when she dropped by his office again. She looked so perfect strolling through the doorway with two hot cups of coffee in hand that it was difficult to imagine either of them to exist anywhere but with each other. Maybe it wasn't enough, but it was something - and if he still couldn't have her, he could have this. Even after years apart, he realized how much he still needed _some_ part of her in his life.

He'd have to take what he could get for now - and perhaps always.

"I remember this," Emma said suddenly, reaching across the desk and snatching the copy of his first player picture from his minor league days. "I didn't believe it until I saw you in a Pirates uniform."

"Hmmm," he answered with a rather foolish tilt of his head. "Didn't believe what exactly?"

"That you were….gone-" she replied, swallowing hard as she ran a finger over the crisp photo. "-or that you'd actually made it I guess. I mean, I always knew you _could_ , but I think I always kinda hoped you'd turn up back here one day after you lived that dream."

Killian felt his shoulders slump at the realization - the idea that Emma believed his aspirations ever meant to discredit their friendship. He'd spent years of his life loving the game that brought them together, but she'd unintentionally become his dream somewhere along the way too.

God, how he _wished_ he could tell her that.

"I came to see you once," Emma blurted out. "In New York….I came to one of your games."

"You…. _what?_ When?"

"It was your second season," she explained with a nervous smirk. "The fourth home game I think. It was against-"

"That little triple A team from up north - the Arendelle Icebreakers," he cut in, finishing her sentence with a disbelieving gasp. "Emma, why didn't you tell me? I would have….I….I never even got to see you."

"That was kind of the point," she replied quietly, looking up at him timidly. "Moving to New York to play baseball was one of the only times I've _ever_ seen you do something for yourself. I never wanted to make it about me. I just….wanted to know you were alright. I wanted to make sure you were happy."

"I wasn't."

Killian nearly bit his tongue at the unexpected admission. He wasn't sure why he said it. Sure, he hadn't been entirely blissful living in the city and falling out of touch with her, but he'd managed to get along fine. Her eyes went emerald with a mix of sadness and understanding, a sight that made his jaw flex with tension.

"Neither was I."

 _Whoa_ , he thought as his eyes widened. He certainly wasn't expecting _that_.

"Everything was just so different after you left," she said with a shrug. "Like, they closed the ice cream shop on Main and the baseball team became terrible….I mean, _really_ terrible. Then I gave up on the idea of law school and then everything with Neal and I just-"

Her words hung heavy in the air as he tried to process them, his head spinning with everything she'd just divulged. He knew he should be sad about the fact that he could no longer meet her at Any Given Sundae for a scoop of Rocky Road and his breath shuddered at the thought of her heart breaking without him around to keep count of the pieces. She was telling him so much and while he was thrilled that her sincerity regarding their conversations was obviously still a point of pride, he felt the subtle prod of his old insecurities.

She was being honest with him. He owed her at least that much too.

"I left," he acknowledged quietly. "But I'm here now."

"Yeah, you are," she nodded. "But does that change things?"

He paused briefly, wondering what the right answer was. He knew what _he_ was hoping for, but as for what Emma wanted….well, he'd never truly been able to pin that down.

"It doesn't have to," he finally offered. "I know the store bought stuff isn't as good as the slow churned ice cream from that little shop, but it's decent - and Cassidy was a fool for messing things up between you two."

"Maybe it was me who ruined it-"

"Don't even _try_ that, love," Killian grinned, shaking his head. "He was always a moron."

"Hmmm," she laughed with a slight blush. "And what about the Storybrooke Knights, Coach?"

"I'm working on it, darling," he chuckled, scratching the scruff on his jaw. "Just gotta give them a chance."

Emma's lips rose into a smile that made his heart ache as she held eye contact for several more moments. The request he'd just given her was ironic and Killian realized quick enough that there was a bit of a double meaning to his words.

 _Give me a chance_ , he thought silently as he held back a deep breath.

The baseball team he'd come to supervise wasn't the only thing that deserved some time to prove its worth and telling her so was something he would get around to doing one day.

 _Eventually,_ he reminded himself - or at least that was his plan for now.

* * *

It was something he kept promising himself he'd bring up during the week that followed. He tried to convince himself it was time to come clean - to tell her that though baseball had taken him away once, it wasn't the _only_ thing that brought him back - and he was still attempting to work up his nerve when she knocked on his old house's front door the night after the first team practice.

He had never sold his childhood home - not after his father finally passed away and not even after he left Storybrooke behind. There was something about the creaking porch swing and dimly lit living room that made him hope he could come back to it someday. Seeing her beneath the porch light all wrapped up in a leather jacket with a nostalgic smile made him instantly believe that he'd made the right choice in keeping the place in his name.

Letting her in was as easy as it had always been - both literally and emotionally. She settled into the couch cushions as they filled in the blanks from the past few years with conversation and a few photos she located in a box on the coffee table.

It was almost like she'd…. _missed_ him. Lord knows he was hoping she had.

"Awwww," she gushed, grinning at the sight of him in an action picture from his first season in New York. "You look so _cute_ here."

"Hey, love, I _prefer_ -" he countered with an eyebrow raise. "-devilishly handsome."

"You know, you never changed - at least not to me," she told him softly as her eyes dropped down to the picture again with fond familiarity. "Same old smirk and messy hair. Same stupid ability to get _anyone_ to adore you….and that scar."

"Not _my_ fault, if I recall correctly," he smiled with a glance down at the left hand Emma's older brother had once cleated by accident. "Dave wasn't always the most graceful bloke-"

"Not _that_ one," she returned, leaning in to brush her thumb over his cheek. " _This_ one."

He tried not to flinch beneath her sudden touch, the feel of her hand gentle and even a bit caring. Her eyes flickered with embarrassment as she nearly pulled back, but he somehow slowed her reaction with a reassuring half smile.

"Sorry," she blushed, skimming his jaw lightly. "I just….I guess I've had a hard time actually believing….this."

"This?"

"That you're here," she clarified with a nervous sigh. "That you came back."

He noticed it then, his focus zoning in on her watery eyes and loose wavy hair. She _had_ missed him.

"I always wanted to," he admitted. "This place, it's…."

"Home?"

With a nod, his mind became clear with what he should have said. _You are my home,_ he thought.

"Aye," he smiled. "Something like that."

* * *

It was the first inning of their third varsity game when Killian realized just how much hadn't changed since the last time he stood at the edge of his hometown field. The sun had barely dropped in the sky and the cool feel of the spring night air was halted by the black windbreaker he'd just pulled on. It was similar to the one Emma used to steal from him, back when she used to grin at him from the stands and long before she had a boyfriend who wouldn't stand for her wearing some other guy's jacket - even if that other guy was nothing more than a friend.

 _Friends_ , Killian thought with a furrowed brow as he glared toward the bleachers. _That's_ what they were and as he watched his old teammate take the empty seat next to her, he decided that perhaps that's all they'd ever end up being.

He didn't even know Neal was still living in Storybrooke - well, not that he'd taken the time to ask. Discussing the whereabouts of that git hadn't exactly been a priority for Killian since he'd started rekindling his friendship with Emma. They'd spent hours bantering and reminiscing since the first night she'd stepped into his half unpacked office and while they'd certainly recounted dozens of memories, Killian had made sure to steer clear of those that involved her old flings and boyfriends.

 _Ex-boyfriends,_ he thought as he zipped up his jacket with a hard tug. That's what he _wanted_ to believe Neal was, but as he watched the pair of them engage in a quick hug, he wasn't optimistic about his assumption.

"Game on, Coach," his third baseman - a quirky sophomore named Roland - greeted as he exited the dugout. "You ready?"

Peering back up toward the girl who'd never lost her hold on him, Killian let out a shaky sigh. She was there - _right_ there - and yet as he took in the way she smiled at the man sitting next to her, Killian couldn't help but think about just how far away she really was.

 _A game,_ he pondered silently. That's what this was - and he was _finally_ down to his last out.

* * *

They'd lost that night. Well, to put it more accurately, they'd been completely annihilated by the seventh inning. When they'd all taken the field for the customary stretch and small town rendition of 'Take Me Out To The Ballgame' - a baseball tradition that Storybrooke never failed to honor - he'd chanced a glance towards the stands. It took only a second to notice she was gone and his face had grown hot when he realized Neal was too. The small crowd was in the middle of chanting something about peanuts and Crackerjacks when he felt his hopes fall fractionally.

She hadn't left the other two games early. In fact, she'd arrived early to the first one and talked him out of his very nervous frame of mind almost too easily. She'd stayed late at the second game, even helping him haul the bag of aluminum bats and crisp baseballs to his car afterward. Emma had always been his most consistent fan and while he knew it shouldn't, her absence made the team's loss that much more frustrating.

He knew he probably didn't have the right to feel annoyed about something so trivial, but convincing himself of that was proving to be very difficult as he read through his game notes in the lowlights of his office.

"You always were ridiculously studious."

He jumped a bit in his seat, his sight jerking up to meet the eyes of his visitor. He definitely wasn't expecting such an intrusion and his heart thumped rapidly in his chest as he bit his lip.

"Aye," he answered, setting down the stack of papers. "I suppose it's true what they say about old habits."

"Admirably consistent, Jones," she smirked. "I've always liked that, you know."

God, she was beautiful, and even more so in the article of clothing she'd put on since he last caught sight of her - his well worn windbreaker from all those years ago. She'd kept it, he realized as his eyes admired her tangled blonde hair and cautious green gaze. That had to mean…. _something_.

"Nice jacket," he said softly, his eyebrow raising. "Though I should apologize that our current team might not deserve such kind support."

"It wasn't that bad, Killian….and I'm sorry I missed-"

"You shouldn't be," he lied. "I know you've been….busy."

His response sounded clipped and the way it made her shoulders straighten immediately made Killian wish he'd spent a little more time picking a casual way to answer her. She moved into the room, her arms folded as she finally paused near the edge of the desk. He wasn't sure why, but she looked….nervous?

"I didn't intend to leave," she started, her teeth worrying her lip. "I just….needed to take care of something."

"With Neal?"

 _Shit,_ he thought as his heart raced. Why did he even bring up that jerk? Why did he even care?

"You saw that?"

"I, uh, yeah," Killian stammered, trying to avoid her eyes. "But it's okay, Emma. You don't have to-"

"Killian, I wanted to explain-"

"You don't have to," he cut in, rising to his feet. "Whatever's going on with you and Neal, Emma….it's none of my business-"

"But that's what I wanted to tell you, Killian, there's nothing-"

"He let you walk home, Emma," he blurted out, watching confusion fill her eyes as he shook his head. "I mean….that night of the dance - the Sadie Hawkins dance. After your date, he let you walk home by _yourself_. I know that because you were freezing by the time you got to my house and your feet were obviously sore from walking in those shoes you never wanted to wear in the first place."

Emma's lips parted slightly, a slight sense of bewilderment filling her stare as she listened to him ramble. He steadied his breath as their eyes locked and it didn't take long for the words he'd never said to resuming rushing out of his mouth.

"Then when you got sick the next week, he didn't bring you the notes you missed in World History or get you chicken soup from Granny's," Killian listed, his face hot with frustration. "He gave you roses for your birthday, Emma, even though you don't like them because you think they're a cliche. Oh and he doesn't like The Princess Bride - something he flat out told you the third time he got you to bail on movie night."

Her eyes were glassy as she listened, his rant obviously causing something to stir in her. Killian knew this was different for her - he'd never been quite this bold about how wrong he thought Neal was for her. Maybe this was wasn't how it was supposed to go. Maybe telling her that Neal didn't deserve her wasn't his place, but Emma was his _best_ friend….and he'd spent _far_ too long pretending that was enough.

"I know Neal…. _he's_ -" Killian said, biting his lip with a huff. "-but he's not…."

"He's not what, Killian?"

Her eyes were nervous yet permissive as whatever she was about to say faded into a charged silence. He could feel his nerves vibrating as he tried to be remain calm and rational. This was it though - the moment he'd been searching for since they were kids. It was that single instance he'd been waiting for since long before he chose to give her the space he'd assumed she once wanted.

He _had_ to say something.

"He doesn't know….that you like bearclaws."

 _Yes, something - but not that,_ he thought as he began to mentally berate himself.

"That I like….bearclaws?"

"Yeah, the ones from the diner," Killian started, finally allowing his eyes to soften. "It's what I'd always bring you the morning after a tough loss - and not because you couldn't stand to see the Storybrooke Knights get their asses kicked, but more because it cheered me up to see you so happy about a morning pastry."

She laughed softly, a pink blush warming her cheeks as he stepped a few paces in her direction. He had no idea where his confidence was suddenly coming from, but as a small tear rolled down her cheek, he resolved not to question his instinct to wipe it away.

"He probably doesn't know that you're an outstanding writer either….and not just small town news either, love - I mean fiction stories and book reviews," he continued, giving her a nod. "The only girl who could convince eighteen year old me that Peter Pan was worth reading."

"It was," she sniffled, her smile weak. "But I-"

"He doesn't know that you don't like apples and that you can't dance, but you're pretty cute when you try," he smirked. "Or that you know more World Series trivia than any woman _or_ man honestly should."

"Mmmm," she teased, raising an eyebrow. "Still bitter about that I see."

"You're patient, Emma - and passionate," he carried on. "You love traditions and sappy movies and appreciating the sweet things in life like that stupid discount cinnamon you always put on your hot cocoa."

"It's the best kind."

"Aye," he said, his eyes hopeful and his smile honest. "So are you."

The air hitched hard in her throat, his fingers grazing hers as they intertwined and Killian lifted her hand to his lips. She gasped at the contact and he took comfort in the way she shifted forward the tiniest bit.

"So why does it matter so much to you that the guy I am _not_ and will _not_ be dating-" she subtly clarified before forming her question. "-knows all of this?"

"It matters to me that _you_ know, Emma."

"You want me to know that you're….observant?"

"No," he said slowly, allowing the feelings he'd pushed away for years to surround him. "I want you to know that I don't want you to be with Neal because….I want you to be with me."

It took what felt like ages for a slow grin to spread across her face, the years he'd spent avoiding the truth melting away as she placed her hands on the sides of his jaw. It was like a dream when her thumb ran over the scar that had been beneath his eye for quite some time now and Killian closed his eyes briefly while he awaited the reply he could only pray she'd give him.

"Took you long enough, Jones."

He chuckled slightly as her forehead fell to his, the moment pulling them into a careful first kiss he'd almost believed he might never receive. It was pure and easy as her lips moved against his own, the quiet space of his office ignored and insignificant as his fingers wove their way through her hair. He could have dissolved into thin air as the kiss broke after a few minutes, but when his gaze returned to her beautiful one, he was beyond grateful that he didn't.

"So," she breathed, leaning into his gentle caress. "Now what?"

"Well, I guess-" he began with a smile that felt permanent. "-we take it a base at a time?"

"Hmmm, maybe," she countered, tilting her head from side to side. "-or how about we agree on no baseball puns and I let you take me out anywhere _except_ a ballgame?"

He laughed a little harder that time, placing a soft kiss on her head as she nuzzled his chest. The game he'd been focused on earlier that evening had ended in exhausting defeat, but this…. _this_ was the real victory he'd been hoping for.


End file.
